Reflets dans l'eau
by Vixray
Summary: Ralph does not sleep through his last night on the island. Instead, he goes for a much-needed bath and meets a long-lost friend. (alternately titled: Reflections in the Water; why the title is French and the story is about English boys, I do not know.)


**Disclaimer: Wish I was a man with a beard writing about World War II. But then _this_ wouldn't have happened.**

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He woke with a start in the blackness, kicking and gasping, his hands clawing at the creepers that brushed his arms and legs. It had been a dream, he thought, or had it? Was he awake or had he just fallen asleep? Were the cries of _Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_ echoes from the nightmarish chase, or had the hunt already begun?

He frowned into the darkness, trying to piece together his frazzled thoughts. At last, with the coolness of the night pressing against his forehead and the musky air of the thicket undulating in his lungs, accompanied with the stale scent of blood and acrid sweat, he came to a conclusion: He would go to the bathing pool, and, perhaps after washing away the confusion of the last few hours, he would be able to see things with some sort of clarity.

He was up, and then he was away, navigating the forest with an easy lope-some time ago he had found that he didn't even have to look at his feet anymore to pick his way through the thick undergrowth-past the scar and the platform until he could see the pool of captured salt water, shimmering in the full moonlight. He went forward, his skin itching under the streaks of dirt and sweat and grime, and he almost ran the last few steps to the pool's edge. He almost let his feet slip away from him in the sand and let his body fall with a splash into the dazzling water. He almost did-but he stopped when he saw the figure half-submerged in the bathing pool.

As he watched, the figure rose, rubbing at its face, revealing a naked back peppered with dark freckles.

"Oh, bloody-" His heart froze; he clapped a hand to his trembling mouth.

He almost turned and ran back to the thicket, but the figure turned and its blue eyes were illuminated by the light and he could see no savagery in those clear orbs. And so he waited and ducked down instead, holding his breath.

But the boy's ears were somehow trained by the animal that hid underneath his dark, perfectly blemished skin.

"Who's there?" came the inquiry. Then was the swirling sound of water. "Who's there-show yourself."

Ralph bit his knuckles. Was he to run now? Run and hope Jack the predator could not catch up to his frantic, fleeing prey?

There was silence on the beach. Then:

"Ralph?" an unmistakably soft, civilized tone. It sent the hairs on the back of Ralph's neck rising up. The voice spoke again, this time with a sizable amount of fear: "Ralph, show yourself."

Ralph remained silent.

"For God's sake," the exasperated noise was accompanied by wet sloshing sounds, which indicated Jack making his way out of the pool. "For God's sake, Ralph, if you don't show yourself-"

Ralph stood shakily. "I'm here."

The faraway figure paused, its shoulders noticeably relaxing. "So it is you," Jack breathed. "I was worried-I was worried…"

"What?"

"I was worried it was the _beast_."

The words seemed to hush the night. A trickle of sweat ran down Ralph's spine. He could see dimly that Jack's face was flushed in shame, and he began laughing at the notion of Jack-the hunter, the savage, _Jack_ -fearing a beast worse than himself.

"What're you laughing for?" the figure called indignantly.

Ralph continued to express his bitter mirth, tears running down his cheeks as his shoulders shook and his stomach ached with the action.

"Come here," Jack said. "Come over here!"

Ralph went to him, because there was no beast at night. There was-there had never been-a beast. It was just him and Jack and the bathing pool.

"Get in," was Jack's command, one spidery finger pointing at the water. "That's what you came here for, isn't it? You're filthy."

Ralph drew the stiff grey shirt over his head and plucked off his shorts and got in, squatting so that the salty water came up to his chin. He had stopped laughing and now only grinned up at the redheaded boy. Jack's waxy face was pinched and glowed whitley in the uncertain light, marred with only the thinnest specks of remaining paint.

"The beast," Ralph said.

"I was worried. I'm not anymore."

"There is no beast."

"There will be tomorrow."

Ralph stared at his shadowy reflection, breaking with each slight ripple, so that he could not make out his face.

"Tomorrow there will be-but not tonight," Jack said, bringing a cupped handful of water to his face and washing away the last streaks of red and brown. With the dislodged paint running down his face he said, "I thought I'd find you here. That's why I came, to wait for you."

Ralph nodded as he scrubbed at the dirt caked on his skin.

"They said you're going to do me."

"Who?"

He considered before replying. "Samneric."

"Not me. I'm not," Jack said nonchalantly.

"The tribe then," Ralph amended. "Sam and Eric said the tribe would do me tomorrow. Wouldn't you want to save them some trouble? Double ended spear, they said. A stick sharpened at both ends. You're the chief. Right through the heart here-" he gestured "-save them some trouble."

Jack stood still, and for a moment the only thing that moved was the water in the bathing pool. When he spoke, he spoke simply:

"No."

Ralph returned to his washing. "No?"

"Not now. Not tonight. Tonight there is no beast."

Ralph waited for him to elaborate.

"The beast is not any one of us. It's the whole thing-the whole tribe. I can't help it. It's just, it's fear, it's panic. There's no thought in what happens. We just do. It's not like you."

"Piggy," Ralph blurted. "It's not like Piggy, not me."

"Piggy, then," Jack agreed. "I'm sorry-I really am-I'm sorry that he… I really didn't mean… It was the beast."

"You killed him."

"The beast killed him-I'm sorry-and the beast will kill you tomorrow."

Ralph let this fact settle in and to his surprise he felt nothing except heavy tiredness.

"Make them stop," he said wearily.

"I can't," Jack said with a sense of lost dignity. "Don't you understand? I can't. It's savagery! It's beast by day, and boy by night. Sometimes we're boys by day and beast at night. And sometimes we're one or the other for the whole time. It's uncontrollable. Don't you understand? I can't think… I don't know-"

"Jack, stop." It was a command.

There was silence at the pool. Jack's wide eyes were the blue of the sea, the blue of rescue, of urgency and everything that yearned for buildings and roads and car exhaust.

"I'm sorry."

He sank into the water so that he was level with Ralph. They looked at each other for a long moment, and Ralph thought he found some sort of understanding and a small bit of forgiveness.

"Do you believe me?"

Ralph did. He _did_. He jerked his head down once.

Jack let out his breath. "Good."

"All I wanted-" Ralph's voice broke, and he had to begin again, "All I wanted was to have a fire."

"Sucks to your fire."

"We should have gotten rescued-we still can."

"We're never getting rescued. We're done here."

"We can stop it. Let me be chief again-"

"The conch is gone; they won't listen-"

"We don't need the _conch_ -"

"We're all going to die," Jack said curtly. "We're all going to die whether we're civilized or savage. The tribe's going to do you a favor tomorrow, so you don't have to starve or get sick or get killed by the beast."

Only their faces were above the water and Ralph thought that the currents of the bathing pool were drawing them closer together, but he couldn't be sure; the movements were so slight.

"I'm sorry," Jack said.

Then he was getting closer, his head tilting minutely, and Ralph found that his was following, turning in the opposite way. Before he could pull back, Jack's lips were on his and away. Then Jack himself was away and out of the pool in an arc of glimmering water, and Ralph tasted salt and sweetness on his lips.

"I'm sorry," Jack said again.

A few pattering sounds of wet feet on sand. They ceased, and Jack turned around once more.

"Roger sharpened the stick. He-I won't."

And he was gone.

Ralph stayed and finished his wash. When he was nearly clean, he stood unmoving and waited for his reflection to clear, but the tide had picked up and the waves of the bathing pool were restless. His image was blurred; nevertheless, Ralph was certain there was a small smile hovering upon his lips.

He put on his clothes languidly. The moon was already high in the sky, and Ralph wished absently that by moving more slowly he could delay the coming of the morning. He trekked back to the forest, his feet dragging in the sand. When he reached the thicket, he curled up in the nest of creepers, fell asleep instantly, and dreamt of red hair and blue eyes and a freckled smile.

Fin.

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 **I'm a starving writer, and I would really appreciate some reviews for dinner.**


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